Destiny of Force
by JonissGadge
Summary: Mira Reese had never expected her life to take such a chaotic turn. Safe from the Captiol's reach in her loving home in District 7, the 17-year-old was successfully sheltered from the evils of Panem. It wasn't until the day of the 73rd Annual Hunger Games reaping that she got a taste of reality. Soon, she would be put to the ultimate test, with nobody left but her mentor, Johanna..
1. Chapter 1

I glance at my limp hair and odd-fitting dress with disguist in the mirror, wondering how the hell I came from my mother who stands behind me; tall, confident, glowing...

"Mira?"

I snap out of my trance, turning to face my mother and managing a smile as best I could. "I'm fine. And ready. Let's go."

My mother nods, her golden waves resting delicatley against her back, and guides me out of the room. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I quickly glance back at the mirror, frowning at my reflection; but not because of my awkward appearance-because Reaping Day always reminds me of our bleak future.

...

"Hey, just think; only one more year of this shit and we're free." I roll my eyes over at Tressa halfheartedly. She's always bashing the Capitol, even around the Peacekeepers. And maybe that's why we're best friends; the perfect mix of opposite. Or maybe simply because we had no choice. We grew up together as neighbors and classmates. Our mothers always planned play dates for us, whether we wanted to or not, but looking back now, I'm glad they did.

"Oh come one, don't be so uptight. But hey, who knows? Maybe one of us will be the next Johanna Mason," she teases, posing defiantly and flipping her dark hair to one side, looking like she's about ready to kill me.

"Woah... easy there," I mock, distancing myself from her with my palms up. To my surprise, and my luck, I end up crashing into Majoris and his usual crew of jocks whose only goal was to become the captain of the football team at school. Flushing red with embarrassment, I back away from them, all staring and laughing at my expense. "God, Mira," Tressa whispers as she pulls me away with her, stepping deeper into the crowd. "You're literally_ handing_ them reasons to make fun of us more than they already do."

Suddenly, we come to an abrupt stop as the music begins playing, marking the official beginning of the ceramony, sending an unbearable dread through my body. My eyes glaze over as I watch the mayor take stage, drabbling on and on about our history as a nation and everything I've heard a million times in my 17 years.

I zone out completely; through the entire speech, the song, and the video. That is, until, I hear my name.

At first I turn to Tressa at my side, as if she were the one who said it. But instead I'm caught by the fear in her eyes. And I know my fate.

"Mira Reese?"

I whip my head toward the stage where the Capitol woman stands, a gawky smile plastered on her made up face.

The girl from school standing next to me takes my arms gently and pushes me into the direction of the stage. I don't disobey. I can barely feel myself walking, or stepping up the stairs, or moving onto center stage; only the sound of my blood pumping in my ears.

"Wonderful," the woman coos, patting my back and guiding me to a spot on the stage as she walks to the glass bowl full of boys' names. Clearing her throat, she tightens her posture and beams to the crowd. "Ramsey Galloway!"

He takes a few moments to appear, but soon I watch as one of Majoris' friends slowly inches toward the stage, looking back at the guys every few seconds as though they can save him. I've never seen him so vulnerable in my life.

"Perfect!" the lady sing-songs as Ramsey walks onto the stage. She grabs us, quite forcefully, her smile never wavering, and presents us side by side in the middle of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, your District 7 tributes!"

The crowd cheers, although I don't know why, and we are guided into seperate rooms of the Justice Building where I'm told to wait. I flinch at the loud sound of the door slamming shut, leaving me alone to my thoughts in this bright white room. I'd rather be in prison. Or already dead.

The reality of the situation only hits me now, making my mind spin like crazy. Random memories of my mother pushing me on the swingset in the backyard, Tressa and I fooling around with dress-up clothes as young children, the sound of my father coming home after a long day of work. So innocent and sheltered from this hell.

"Mira!" My mother bursts through the door, along with my father, looking more somber than ever. The happiness in their eyes has completely vanished, as if I'm looking at a couple of strangers. "Oh my," she whipers, shaking her head feverishly and wrapping me in her arms. "I'm so sorry," she cries.

I fight for words to say, but I find none. My mouth hangs open and I watch my dad rubbing his shattered face, and I can't help but feel guilt for all of this. It's as though I broke their hearts with no say in the matter. I wish I could tell them it's okay. That I'll be home soon.

But that dream shatters as the peacekeepers pull me away from my mother and drag me down a dark hall.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, there you are!" The Capitol escort rises from her seat to greet me as I enter the train, leaning down from the height of her clunky heels to kiss either side of my face. "Dear, you are so beautiful," she beams, taking my chin and turning my head to examine me more clearly. Her smile falters, as I'm assuming she's noticed the dirt and scars on my skin, and purses her lips into a tight smile. "Maybe just a little bit of work could be done..."

The train door slides open behind me, revealing a disheveled blond boy, much taller than I. "Welcome, welcome!" the lady coos, pushing past me and embracing the Ramsey. I've known him my whole life. But I never gave him much thought. It was clear to me he was a follower, sticking to Majoris as if he were his only chance in life. They had sort of a group at school. You didn't talk to them unless they talked to you first.

"Great," the lady beams, dimples caving on either side of her pale face. "I'm Frostine, your Capitol escort." She claps her gloved hands together and takes in a deep breath, admiring the pleasant scent of the train. "This will be your home for the night as we head to the Capitol for your training and preparations. There's food, drinks, entertainment over there; help yourselves." She strides over to the other side of the room, her hand on the door handle. "We're expecting to arrive midday tommorow," she adds, opening the door as the train takes motion. "Oh, and one more thing. Your mentor will arrive shortly. She's in the other room. I wouldn't disturb her if I were you." There's a dull seriousness hanging in the air. "Well, I suppose I can't talk your ears off all evening!" And finally, she exits the room, allowing me to enjoy the silence for a moment.

If I weren't so caught up in my own mind, this silence would be pretty awkward. Ramsey curses something under his breath and storms off to the middle of the room, grabbing a glass bottle of liqour and taking a long swig. I watch him in disbelief, rolling my eyes to the side and staring out the window, watching the forests of 7 pass by.

"Better drink up now why you still can," I hear Ramsey suggest, pressing the bottle to his lips again and wincing at the strong taste.

Biting the inside of my lip absentmindedly, I carry myself to the middle of the train, sitting across from him on a plush chair, much softer than the ones back home, and for the first time, I get a good look at him. He has harsh features, probably to match his personality, which I don't quite know at all. All I know about him is that he spent his freetime tormenting the younger classmates with his group, and probably doesn't have much sympathy from the rest of the kids back home.

"Well?" he questions, raising the bottle and waving it in front of my face. I ignore his offer, turning my head coldly to the side, trying to keep up with the trees passing in the window. He scoffs and shrugs, taking yet another long gulp, until the bottle is nearly half gone. "Don't act like you're better than me. We'll both be dead in a matter of weeks. None of this matters anymore."

We sit in silence for a long moment. I have nothing to say to him, nor any desire to talk with anyone right now. The trees outside slowly disperse as we assumingly near District 6. The bottle of liquor in Ramsey's white knuckles quickly dissapears. The sky outside changes from a light shade of blue to a darker grey.

Ramsey stands from his chair, stumbling over himself and falling right away. He groans and throws the bottle across the room, sending glass shattering down the wall and me jumping up from my seat. "Ramsey, what the hell?!"

"Hey!" A sharp, high pitched voice pierces from the end of the room. Johanna Mason, our District's 'hero', storms into view, her expression showing nothing short of rage. "Seriously?! Day One and you've already lost your goddamn minds?!"

I step back on impulse, the backs of my knees hitting the chair behind me. Ramsey slurs something into the floor and I can't seem to peel my eyes away from the girl with her arms crossed in frustration standing before us. After watching her Games and interviews all the past years, it's a strange feeling to be so close to her, especially when she's shouting at you.

Johanna watches us in shock for a long, agonizingly silent moment before she shakes her head and smirks with disbelief. "Well, this should be an interesting year." She stares down at Ramsey passed out on the floor and points to me. "You, fix him up. Get him to bed. I'll be in my room and I swear to god, if you wake me..." She rolls her eyes at the thought and throws up a hand as if to brush me off, turning on her heels and slamming the door shut behind her.

I take a moment to process it all, ignoring Ramsey's muffled slurs next to me. Sighing deeply, I bend over and take his forearms, dragging him up to a seated position and fight to get him off the floor.

Maybe being dead in a few weeks is something I can look forward to.


	3. Chapter 3

"He just... passed out?" Frostine cuts at a piece of steak bigger than my head, struggling to situate the fork between her silk gloves.

I nod and shift in my seat across from her, reaching for a dinner roll. "I had to drag him to his bed." I'm strong enough to carry the average human, but Ramsey is in no way average. I thought I was pretty tall before I stood next to him.

"It wouldn't be the first time it's happened," she sighs, taking one bite and laying her napkin over the plate, still crowded with food. "Thank you, Mira, for helping him." She smiles over at me and stands, smoothing out the front of her magenta skirt. "I haven't much of an appetite this time of year. I'm sure you can imagine why."

I can, but I also help myself to a third serving. We don't starve back home, but we certainly don't have an abundance like this.

The door at the end of room slides open and I can only hope it's Blight, the only other living District 7 victor, but to my dismay, it's Johanna again. She smirks over at us slyly, almost menacing, stepping toward us with a calculating expression. Frostine pushes her chair in and walks off the other way, her heels clinking against the hard floors, and she disappears back into her compartment.

"She never liked me," Johanna grins, pulling out the chair with her foot and falling into it, still eyeing me. Maybe she's amused by the amount of food on my plate.

"It's sad, really..." she goes on, her voice smooth, narrowing her eyes at a fixed spot on the wall above me. "You know, being a district of such skill with axes, you'd think we'd have more victors. A better chance in the Games." She bites her lip, a small grin spreading over her lips, and she gazes downward. "Don't expect much help from Blight and I. He's always pissed drunk and I have no tolerance for weaklings. And I'm just going to assume you're prepared." Her harsh, cold gaze meets mine, and it gets harder to hide the horrified expression taking hold of me. She raises a skeptic brow. "You can hold an ax, can't you?"

It sounds like a simple task. I grew up around lumberjacks, ax throwing, wood-chopping. But I never took part. I'm one of the few who spent my energy elsewhere. My mother was a paper-maker, and my father a furniture maker. The only time I stepped foot into the forest was for peace and quiet, not training with an ax.

And apparently my face conveys my worry, as Johanna gawks at me, mouth hung open and eyes wide. "Are you serious?" Scoffing, she shakes her head and eyes me. "Well, you better learn _something _useful at the training center, or we can kiss any chance of winning goodbye. Again."

I don't know why I'm so surprised by her attitude. She was definitely strong and defiant, but the cameras can only catch so much. I thought it was an act.

"Excuse me? Is there something wrong?" she questions, a hard look on her face, eyeing me like I've just offended her.

"What?" It takes me a while to come back to reality. Clearing my throat, I offer the slightest shake of my head, feeling the red wash over my face. I'm already intimidated by people enough as it is, but she gives a whole new meaning to the word. "No, sorry, I," I stammer under her sharp gaze. "I'm just tired."

"Then sleep."

I watch her for a beat too long before nodding quickly and pushing my chair out, rising and walking to the door, glancing back at her ever few seconds.

"Oh, and sweetie?"

My hand freezes on the door handle and I turn slightly to face her.

"Keep this whole shy, innocent, thing up. The other tributes will never think you capable of killing them all."

I can't hint any sarcasm in her tone, but I'm sure it's there. It has to be. Surely she knows I'll be the first one dead.

I nod and push through the door.


	4. Chapter 4

The tears fall almost immediately the moment my head hits the pillow. One, two, three, four, five minutes pass and I'm still clutching a pillow against my face to quiet my sobs. And it's selfish really; because I can't even begin to imagine the pain my parents are in, watching their child being dragged into battle, knowing for a damn fact that she won't survive-so I just focus on myself. On _my _pain. The empty, hopeless, ugly kind of pain that feels like an ax in my heart.

I wish I could pinpoint the reason for my agony. Is it the flood of memories surfacing? The nights spent dancing and singing around the living room with my mother, the times my father would carry me on his back into the forest to birdwatch, the days at school with Tressa, no cares in the world, just hopes for the future… Or maybe it's the fact that I'm literally on my way to die right now. Each passing second is just a harsh reminder that I'm too far from home to go back now.

...

"Get up! We arrive in an hour!" A loud banging on the door startles me awake. I wish I could request a new mentor.

My eyes barely open, and the tears are dried to my skin. I'm scared to look in the mirror. Sitting up in my bed, I turn my face to the vanity across the room and catch a glimpse of my red, splotchy face and the blonde frizzy mess hanging on my head.

"Hurry!" she pounds on the door again, causing me to stand up straight and slowly head to the door, trying helplessly to tame my hair with my hands.

I'm surprised to see everyone awake and situated around the dining table. Even Blight is here, looking rather hungover. The scenery outside has changed as well; no more thick forests and simple homes. Large, glass buildings tower over us, blocking most of the sunlight from entering the train.

"District One," Johanna mutters as she shreds a toothpick with a knife, glancing up at me and immediately chuckling under her breath. "You should probably take a shower, we'll be at the Capitol soon. You don't want to scare any sponsors away with that hair."

I stand there silent, pursing my lips. "Oh dear…" Frostine swiftly stands out of her chair, approaching me cautiously as if I were diseased or something. I'm less offended than I am annoyed. I didn't ask to be in this situation.

"Your hair…" she whispers, trying to comb her fingers through the dirty blonde dead ends, but the snarls catch her nail. She winces and clasps her hands over her chest, examining my red skin. "Please, do take a shower. I think I have something to hide this blotchiness…"

She disappears into her compartment and Blight's low laughter takes my attention. His gaze is low, shaking his head with a sly smirk as he pushes back his plate of food, replacing it with a flask from his pocket.

"What are you staring at?" I flinch back, unaware that he'd looked up. I feel my face get hot and I can only shrug, taking a seat at the furthest corner of the table and picking up a slice of bread. I can feel their eyes on me; Blight, Johanna, and Ramsey.

I hear more chuckling from Blight's end of the table, but I don't dare look up. "You were right, Jo. We don't stand a chance with these two." More chuckling, more dishes clanging against the table, and Blight is gone, back to his compartment.


End file.
